Waiting Room
by Calex
Summary: It was the voice that caught her attention, she decided, a low rumbling, the sound like a tornado far away, vibrating the ground into your very soul." - Based on Houses's first line meme on LJ. BtVSHP


Title: Waiting Room

Author: Calex

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. BtVS characters belong to Whedon, HP characters belong to JK Rowling. In response to Houses's First Line Meme.

It was the voice that caught her attention, she decided, a low rumbling, the sound like a tornado far away, vibrating the ground into your very soul. The ice blue eyes didn't hurt anything, either. Or the scar on that eyebrow. Or those cut-glass cheekbones. Or those lips. Okay, so as an overall package, he was attractive. He had a fantastic arse, that much she was _definitely_ sure about. He'd leant down, once, and that arse had been framed by his 501s. That… or the fact that he just reminded her of her husband.

"Like what you see?"

The tone was more of a cockney accent than Draco's refined, cultured tones. The cockiness that infused that sentence was, however, reminiscent to him. Her Draco. The one that didn't live. The one who had sacrificed himself in the war. Hah! She knew better. No one tricked Pansy Parkinson, she wasn't a fool. Draco was no sacrificial worshipper of the effing Dark Lord. Draco played both sides, like Prof.. Like Snape was. He fought for the light and left her drowning, drowning, drowning in darkness. Then again, she didn't mind the darkness. Preferred it, really. But Pansy Parkinson was no one's toy. No one uses a Parkinson and gets away with it… but she'd let him live, she'd let him go. As much as she loved him, she knew that his feelings to her were friendly at best. He loved that bloody Weasley, instead. Ginevra. What kind of person has a name like Ginevra, anyway? Bloody muggle-loving Weasleys. But no, no more thoughts about the husband that was now gone. Back to the one that was in front of her.

"Just unpleasantly reminded of someone from my past."

He dared to chuckle. Bloody arsehole. He chuckled at her. The man leaned towards her from his seat, a slight smile curving those oh-so-sensual lips of his and chuckled right in her face. Those shivers she felt wasn't from him, oh no. Never. Those were just… she was just cold. Yes. Cold. That was it.

"No need to be nasty, luv." Pansy's lip curled as she looked at him. She gave him the best ice queen look she could manage (she was slightly out of practice, she never had to do one since the pinnacle of the war) and sneered. She sneered at this one man that had managed to get her hackles up and who had stirred her so.

"I rather think that I can act any way I like without any mouth from you, sir."

"Your eyes snap beautifully when you're in a fury, luv."

That made her blink. Her eyes snapped? She narrowed those eyes of hers at him and actually snarled. He laughed. This man puzzled her. He wasn't afraid. At all. He'd taken all the wind from her fire. It was rather disconcerting. He leaned forward once more and raised a hand that was strangely cold and tucked a strand of her jaw-length jet black hair behind a small ear. That made her blink, again.

"Mrs. Malfoy, they're ready for you in the meeting, now," a tall, slender, dark haired girl said to her, politely. Pansy nodded at the girl distractedly, blue eyes still locked on blue and he grinned wickedly at her.

"Might want to go in, luv. The bitlet said they were calling for you."

She didn't know what it was about him that made her follow his orders. She stood up and started walking towards the board room, but paused at the door. She looked behind her, shooting a puzzled look at the bleached blond man sprawled on the sofa in the sumptuous waiting room. She didn't know why she felt a need for it, but she hesitated, the words stuck in her throat. Finally, she managed to stammer it out.

"Thank you."

With that, Pansy disappeared into the board room and Dawn shot him a look before she followed the dark haired woman into the room and closed the door behind her. Spike felt his grin widen and he leaned back in his sofa. That woman was a tough nut to crack… but he knew he could get to her. He still had it, that innate gift of his, after all these years. He found himself hoping that the chit would stay on for awhile. He missed having someone British that wasn't as stuffy as Watcher 1 and Watcher 2 around. He somehow felt that this woman would be different. _Very_ different.


End file.
